


the blood on my hands scares me to death

by starsun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, How Do I Tag, Major Character Injury, Unless it's not?, pre-release
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-22 17:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19958818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsun/pseuds/starsun
Summary: The mission doesn't go quite as Byleth expected it to. And he can't do anything to change it.Written pre-release!





	the blood on my hands scares me to death

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from I'll be good, by Jaymes Young. 
> 
> Catch me writing about a game that isn't out yet and so this fic probably won't age well.  
> That said, let's call this a joint class assignment. I based the surroundings on the map Treehouse played on E3.

It occurred to Byleth now, that he should have told the Archbishop to give the task away to the Knights of Seiros, who were obviously more experienced than a bunch of kids — don’t take him wrong, he loved all his students even if he showed it or not — in these kind of battles, but her argument about it being a new kind of experience for them had won him over easily. It occurred to him as well, that he should have requested Catherine’s help before the mission, not a mercenary’s. He was selfish in asking his father to accompany them so he could show off his students and spend some more time with the old man before he left the monastery yet again. 

The battle itself seemed easy, they would ambush the bandits from both sides of their stronghold, himself leading a small group that would try to be as silent as possible as they infiltrated from the back, while Jeralt caused the ruckus with the rest of the class as they charged on the area with the most patrols. When their enemies were subdued and the loot they had stolen packed on their horses, they could all return to the academy for a warm meal and some leisure. 

Instead, the battlefield was full of surprises that Byleth hadn’t expected. First of all, he wasn’t aware of the merchants and so, he had failed to save them once, wasn’t able to get the bridge down before a sniper took one of them down, the rest mauled by the creature running after them. It was then he realized how powerful his enemy could be, the sound of bones crushing and the look of utter terror in their faces caused by it played in a loop even after the merchants were safe. 

They were ambushed by an assassin the second time. The man had jumped from behind a woodland the minute Claude had run past it, he would have died if not for Ignatz stepping in between him and the man’s blade. And yet, his relief was short-lived when the teenager turned to look at his teacher the palest he had ever been, bloody hands gripping his stomach. Byleth didn’t wait to see him collapse, or to hear the screams of his classmates before they were back at the bridge, the assassin dead at his own hand. 

The third, they had been advancing towards the giant wolf on a fairly quick pace, and even though everyone had been paying attention to his surroundings, they hadn’t expected an archer to manage a shot at them from the other side of the river. Felix ended up getting trapped underneath of his steed when the arrow pierced through the mount’s flesh, the mercenary knew the lion had broken his leg just because of his position. The fact that he was trying to mask it by shooting them all a smile even as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes was impressive, but Byleth couldn’t tolerate him having such a wound, the consequences were to great with an injury like that, and to be simple, Felix didn’t deserve them. Claude took care of the archer before she had pulled the arrow from her quill the next time around. 

That was three times that he had used Divine Pulse. Sothis warning was ringing clear in his head as he understood why his ability was limited, he was getting _exhausted ,_ his limbs felt heavier than usual and sometimes he felt his feet dragging as he walked. Regardless, now wasn’t the moment to be taking a nap on the battlefield, specially with children, capable ones, but still children, fighting alongside him. They were all going back to the academy safely, or… there weren’t really other scenarios. 

The beast proved to be everything Byleth had been expecting, agile, powerful, extremely dangerous. It was taking all of his concentration to pay attention to the fight, lest he risked becoming something akin to a shredded coconut with the way the beasts claw’s came dangerously close to anyone who was able to approach it and deliver a blow to its body. It was in one of those moments when Lindhardt set the monster’s tail on fire and the professor ran to its side with his sword, that his retreat was cut short. 

One moment he was looking over his back as the wolf howled in pain, and the next he felt his legs give up on him, his body rolling on the ground for an instance before he got his bearings. That had been enough time for the bloody creature to notice him, and charge against him. He froze in place when he noticed it, he couldn’t move, and he was too tired. 

Byleth felt as if he was seeing the next instances of his life in slow motion. 

His name was screamed by different people, his mind couldn’t supply whom. 

The beast stumbled as several arrows pierced its body, yet didn’t stop its chase. 

Weapons were clashing in the distance, as a rapid set of footsteps approached him, the sound of the sprint familiar to him. 

He didn’t realize the reason why until it was too late, and his line of sight was obscured by someone jumping in front of him just as he could feel the wolf’s breath on his skin. 

Byleth became completely aware of his surroundings again when the crunching of bones returned, yet now it echoed not only on his head. What he was witnessing was worse than seeing strangers die. 

The beast had snapped its jaws around his _father’s_ body, blood quickly pouring around the punctures produced by the wolf’s teeth and tainting them red before they loosened his hold and flung its prey to the side. He didn’t make a sound as he crashed against the dirty ground, and he would have retched on the spot if it hadn’t been for the shaky rise of Jeralt’s chest. He wanted nothing more than to run to his only family and heal the damn wounds himself, but he had to handle the snarling threat in front of him first, even if tears gathered in his eyes and blurred his vision. He didn’t turn back until it collapsed. 

* * *

Their teacher had been ruthless with the monster they had faced, delivering blow after blow without allowing himself a moment to rest, they had never seen him like that, but then again, how could they blame him? Dimitri certainly didn’t. His teacher’s father had gotten hurt, so of course he would seek revenge and snap on the being that caused him said pain, the prince would do the same if any of the Blue Lions got hurt or his own family was alive. 

Still, regardless of whether he understood or not, it ached to know that the first time the professor was so open about his feelings had to be this moment. And he could see by the expressions on everyone’s faces — Claude was grimacing instead of smirking after they felled an enemy in battle, Edelgard looked as if she was about to puke, Annette had tears streaming down her face as Ashe hugger her, Leonie was about to cry — that they were feeling the same way. 

The wounds Jeralt had were grave, gashes caused by the monster’s fangs, and possibly many more broken bones that neither Mercedes nor Lindhardt were able to cure with their magic. His teacher was shaking as he kept pressing his hands over the wounds to no avail, his now bloodied gloves and the pool of blood that gathered around the mercenary soon being proof of that. And yet Byleth didn’t yield, he was about to rip his jacket to create a makeshift bandage if it weren’t for his father stopping him. 

The next two seconds were spent in silence as father and son stared at each other, Jeralt’s expression softening as he reached out to pat his shoulder. “My boy… stop. You and I both know the outcome of this, and that’s alright.” 

His words made their teacher recoil, as if he had just gotten punched in his guts, the hitch on his breath making it more believable as he shook his head. “No. You’re going to be alright, dad, I… This wasn’t supposed to go this w-way.” In that moment, Dimitri thought it was humorous how the only time the three houses could be in sync was when they all flinched at the sound of Byleth’s voice cracking. 

Jeralt wasn’t fazed by the answer he had been provided for, and if he hadn’t been in this situation, if he wasn’t suffering from a throaty cough that may have had him spitting blood he probably would have screamed at his son, he looked ready to. Yet his voice came out slow, weak, his words were dragging in a way that was so contrasting to the usual booming voice that taunted his enemies and shouted orders from across the battlefield. “It couldn’t have gone another way, Byleth. I’m glad that it was me... I refuse to lose you, and I’m sure your students would feel the same.” At that, his eyes went to them briefly before setting back on his son. “Take care of them, I’m sure they’ll do the same in return... I love you, son.” 

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd would never forget the way his teacher’s face morphed from anguish into utter despair as the hand holding onto his shoulder fell to the ground, lifeless just like the body it was connected to. It would forever be ingrained in his mind how Byleth made himself as small as possible next to his father’s body as sobs shook his entire body, the students that weren’t crying already bursting into tears with him. And the screams that he released as Sylvain and Ferdinand forcefully dragged him away from the deceased would play on a loop on his head for a long time. 

* * *

It had been a few days since him and his students had returned to the monastery, and he was getting used to waking up to wet cheeks after his mind replayed the mission in his dreams another night. What he wasn’t used to, was the sight of Sothis perched on his desk looking at him without the usual smirk on her face. 

He could only read pity from the look that she was giving him, and he didn’t want it. As if reading his thoughts, the girl’s gaze went to stare at the dust on his floor, and he would have not heard what she whispered if it weren’t for her being less than a meter away. “I’m sorry.” 

The amount of times those two words had been said to him was starting to be insufferable. “I— Sothis… I can’t. I need to use it once more, can’t you make that happen?” His friend kept her silence for a while, enough time that he was getting discouraged about his idea, dread filling his whole being — until the most imperceptible of nods came from her. “Please, Sothis. Take me back to that moment, I know what I need to change.” 

The girl’s gaze went back to him, eyes narrowed and face as serious as it had ever been around him. “The consequences are unknown to me, be aware that they may be ones you don’t like.” Her expression morphed then, back to the one that showed nothing but regret. “Be careful.”

He didn’t nod as fast as the world changed around him.

* * *

His breathing was ragged by the time the beast released a final whine, collapsing over its own weight and wounds, like it had done before. Relief filled him to the bone, the difference between this moment and the previous one were clear, the mercenary hadn’t failed his father in this instance. He resisted the urge to look for Jeralt and give him a hug. They hadn’t hugged in years. 

A hand rested on his back before it moved to pat his shoulder, and Byleth’s act of being put together almost broke as he turned to see his father _beaming_ at him, no wounds visible on his skin, no blood in his face. It was overwhelming to know that— that his plan worked, his father was alive, everyone was, nobody had gotten hurt besides some scratches that were already being treated by Mercedes. 

His father was talking to him, and it was in his usual, booming tone of voice that Byleth had heard his whole life, not the raspy and tired one from before. “You and your students did good today, son. It was an honor fighting alongside you all.” A small smile became present on his face at the praise, and his father mirrored it before it shifted into a frown. “I have to say though, I didn’t fancy you as a fan of painting your hair, even if it’s only the bottom. Why white?”

**Author's Note:**

> Alt. Ending:
> 
> Jeralt: "You and your students did good today son, it was— what with's the hug?"
> 
> *Cue group hug*


End file.
